


Bokuto Koutarou Is...

by ConesOfDunshire



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Akaashi with the patience of a saint, BokuAka Week, Falling In Love, Fluff, M/M, Pining, Really mild angst, Secret genius Bokuto, owls in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-06
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-05-31 14:14:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6473629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConesOfDunshire/pseuds/ConesOfDunshire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the story of how Akaashi Keiji realized he was head over heels for Bokuto Koutarou. In honor of Bokuaka week, April 5-11.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bokuto Koutarou is Not an Idiot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bokuto Koutarou may be a lot of things. But stupid isn't one of them. And Akaashi is determined to prove that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BokuAka Week Prompt: "Library"

Loud. Boisterous. Overwhelming.

Those were just a few words that came to mind the first time Akaashi met Bokuto Koutarou. It was during volleyball tryouts, his first day at Fukurodani, when the spiky-haired teen had bounded up to him, asking what position he played. When Akaashi replied with “Setter,” Bokuto looked ready to crawl out of his own skin with excitement. He was then reprimanded by the captain for not helping set up the gym and sent to do laps.

But that was only the beginning of Akaashi’s strange relationship with the spiker. Every day, Bokuto begged Akaashi to set to him after practice—“Just a few balls, Akaashi! I promise we won’t stay too late!” A few balls turned into hours, and Akaashi returned home exhausted every night, aching from head to toe thanks to Bokuto’s boundless energy.

Bokuto was not a regular on the team. There were five third-years, three of whom were wing spikers. Akaashi could tell Bokuto tried to take it in stride. But he was constantly itching to play, to make a name for himself. And unfortunately, the third-years didn’t take it well. Akaashi often heard them talking about Bokuto, how unreliable he was, how unpredictable, how stupendously dumb.

At first, the comments were easy enough to ignore. Akaashi didn’t know Bokuto all that well, and as far as he knew, they could’ve been true. The seniors shouldn’t have been talking about him behing his back, but what was a team without a little drama?

However, as he got to know Bokuto, he couldn’t ignore them. Sure, Bokuto’s mood swings could be slightly inconvenient—especially the first time Akaashi encountered one on his own. But he had an easy enough time letting Bokuto fizzle out. And after that, he was always right as rain. He was also more skilled than the seniors gave him credit for. The third-year setter hadn’t bothered to learn Bokuto’s style, hadn’t tried to adjust to Bokuto simply because he didn’t have to. But Bokuto was powerful, and his abilities rivaled even the ace of the team. He just needed someone to help him bring it out.

What Akaashi had the hardest time refuting was the claim that Bokuto was, in fact, dumb. He didn’t do very well in class, and he did even worse on his homework. He’d barely managed to move on to the second year, getting by on sheer luck and the skin of his teeth. He’d been through countless tutors, study groups, and even a boot camp-like session over the summer. Nothing helped. His grades still suffered.

But Akaashi couldn’t give up. He’d managed to reign in Bokuto’s mood swings. He’d managed to fine-tune his skills as a spiker. And he _would_ help Bokuto pass his classes.

Which is why, on a Friday after practice, he approached Bokuto on a mission. The spiker seemed taken aback by Akaashi’s fierce expression.

“Hey, hey, Akaashi. You okay?” he asked tentatively as he pulled a clean shirt over his head.

“Do you have plans this afternoon?” Akaashi countered.

“Um… Not that I… No, no, I don’t,” Bokuto replied.

“You do now.”

“I do?”

“You’re coming with me to the library,” Akaashi nodded firmly. “And we’re studying.”

“Wait, really?” Bokuto looked confused.

“Bring all your books,” Akaashi said.

“ _Tch_ , good luck with that.”

Akaashi glanced behind him toward the skeptical voice. The third year who spoke—the team’s current ace—was staring at them with a smug expression. In fact, most of the team was watching them curiously.

“Thank you,” Akaashi said with a blank expression and a nod. He was sure that the ace was trying to goad him on. But Akaashi knew better. He knew how to deal with the older boy—by feigning ignorance.

The tick in the boy’s jaw meant Akaashi was successful. “The captain last year tried to tutor Bokuto, and he gave up after two days. He’s an idiot.”

“Hey, knock it off,” another third year tried weakly.

“What, you _don’t_ think he’s an idiot?” the ace countered. “Come on. He even knows it too. Aren’t you an idiot, Bokuto?”

Akaashi turned his gaze back toward Bokuto. He was staring at the bench in front of him, eyes seemingly glued to a knick in the wood. His fingers fidgeted between one another. He tried to smile—though it looked more like a grimace.

“Yeah, I… I’m not very smart,” he agreed. His voice was smaller than Akaashi had ever heard it.

Akaashi felt a surge of anger. If he were less in control of his emotions, he’d yell—though why he felt it was his mission to defend Bokuto, he couldn’t say. Instead, he utilized his best weapon: more feigned ignorance. This time, he ignored the third-year completely.

“We’ll be there until closing time, so we can stop for food before we study,” Akaashi said.

“Your treat?” Bokuto asked, grinning sheepishly.

“I think it should probably be _your_ treat,” Akaashi noted.

“Ah, Yukie’s gonna have to lend me some money then,” Bokuto laughed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I suppose it’ll have to be my treat then,” Akaashi said, rolling his eyes.

“Well come on, Akaashi! Let’s go! Time’s a’wastin’!”

They ignored the pointed stares from the rest of the team, the glare from the ace as they strode past him and out the door of the clubroom. And Akaashi tried to ignore the furtive glances Bokuto continued to shoot his way. He didn’t have time to be distracted. He was on a mission.

* * *

 

Akaashi realized about half an hour in that he was fighting an uphill battle. Bokuto’s trouble with school was not for lack of trying. He’d spent 10 minutes trying to understand what the first question was asking of him, and 10 more trying to explain his reasoning to Akaashi—reasoning that was full of stuttered um’s and made absolutely no sense. And now, for 10 minutes, he’d been doodling at the corners of the paper, numbers and pictures of owls and a little sketch of himself spiking a toss over the net.

“Bokuto-san, were you listening to me?” Akaashi asked suddenly.

Bokuto glanced up at Akaashi, his mouth open wide enough to catch flies. Akaashi knew two minutes into his explanation Bokuto wasn’t listening anymore.

“Sorry,” Bokuto murmured, dropping his pencil onto the table. “I… I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Akaashi replied. “It’s just, if this doesn’t make sense, we’ll have to try something else.”

“It doesn’t,” Bokuto admitted. “It never does.”

He fell back into his chair, staring listlessly at the paper in front of him. Akaashi shuffled the papers in front of him. They didn’t need shuffling. But he had to look anywhere but at Bokuto’s despondent expression.

“Hey, Akaashi?”

Well, he couldn’t avoid looking at him forever. Akaashi glanced up to see Bokuto watching him closely, the forlorn expression never wavering.

“Yes?”

“I just… I just wondered why you’re helping me,” Bokuto mumbled.

“Why _wouldn’t_ I help you,” Akaashi countered.

“’Cause it’s not like it’ll help,” Bokuto huffed. “It never helps. I’m too dumb.”

“Don’t say that,” Akaashi said brusquely.

“But it’s—“

“Don’t.”

Bokuto’s lips contorted into a grimace. He wanted to argue more. But Akaashi’s clipped tone clearly made his words stick in his throat. Akaashi reached out and grabbed the paper from in front of Bokuto. He glared at the equations, trying to figure out how better to explain them to Bokuto. But something caught his eye.

“Bokuto-san… What are these?” he asked, gesturing to the doodles in the page’s corners.

“Nothin’,” Bokuto shrugged.

“What does that mean?

“I was just drawing stuff,” Bokuto explained. “I always draw owls when I’m bored. And then this one, oh this one, it’s from earlier today when you—“

“Those are nice, but I was talking about the numbers,” Akaashi cut him off gently. “Do you… Do you know what these are?”

“Um… Numbers?” Bokuto asked, his voice unsure.

“Bokuto-san…” Akaashi spoke slowly. “These are the answers.”

Bokuto’s brows came together in confusion. He leaned closer to Akaashi, appraising the paper closely. Akaashi could almost see his eyes glaze over as he stared at the numbers.

“You _really_ didn’t do this on purpose?” Akaashi queried.

“No, I was just writing stuff,” Bokuto shrugged. “I always do that.”

Akaashi dug around in his bag, pulling out a piece of scratch paper. He bent low over it, scribbling out a few equations. Boktuo watched him closely.

“What are you doing?” the older boy asked.

Akaashi passed the paper across the table. “Just read it, don’t focus too hard on it. Then do whatever you want.”

Bokuto looked confused, but he complied. His eyes scanned over the equations so fast, there was no way he’d retained any of them. But Akaashi didn’t care about that. He cared about the doodles. Bokuto’s drawings started at the top left corner of the paper. First he scetched out yet another horned owl. Then he moved on to a tree. Then came the numbers, all out of order, some bigger than others, some smaller. But as they came together, Akaashi’s mouth fell open.

“That’s the answer,” he murmured.

“What?” Bokuto peered up at him.

“You just answered the first question,” Akaashi repeated.

“Really?” Bokuto perked up as he looked down at the page again. “Awesome!”

“And you _really_ didn’t mean to?” Akaashi pressed.

“No!” Bokuto exclaimed. The librarian poked her head around the corner and shushed him. “Hey,” his voice dropped as he leaned toward Akaashi. “Do you think… Maybe I’ve been getting ‘em right all the time? ‘Cause I always doodle like that.”

“I think you have,” Akaashi nodded slowly, staring back down at the paper. “This is brilliant.”

When Bokuto said nothing, Akaashi glanced up at him. The expression he wore wasn’t what Akaashi expected. His brows were furrowed together in consternation as he appraised Akaashi. His mouth was drawn in yet another grimace.

“Akaashi,” he said slowly. “Are you… Are you making fun of me?”

“What?” Akaashi retorted. “No. Of course not.”

“It sounds like you are,” Bokuto mumbled. “People call me smart when they’re making fun of me, ‘cause they’re actually calling me stupid…”

Akaashi reacted on impulse—for probably the first time in his life—and reached for Bokuto’s hand. The contact seemed to surprise the older boy. But he didn’t pull away.

“I would never call you stupid,” Akaashi promised. “And I wouldn’t make fun of you for this. I… I think you might be the smartest person I’ve ever met.”

“No way,” Bokuto snorted.

“Everything is inside your head, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi insisted. “You know it all. And we’re going to get it out. We’ll figure out how.”

“We?” Bokuto repeated.

“We,” Akaashi nodded.

“Are you sure you’re not making fun of me?”

“No. Not about this.”

It took a minute for Bokuto’s expression to soften. But Akaashi wasn’t prepared for what would happen when it did. The smile that spread over Bokuto’s face was wide and genuine, one Akaashi had never seen him wear before. He smiled often, of course. But it was never like this—never this genuinely happy. The corners of his eyes crinkled as his eyes squinted. There was a dimple, just one, on the left side of his face.

Akaashi tried to ignore the tightness in his chest, the way his stomach clenched at that smile. He blinked away the confusion, doing his best to return to the task at hand.

And in that moment, Akaashi Keiji decided two things.

1\. That people would know Bokuto Koutarou was a genius.

2\. That Bokuto would be smiling like that more often.


	2. Bokuto Koutarou is Great with Animals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bokuto asks to visit Akaashi’s house, where he meets his cat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BokuAka Week Prompt: "Pets"

“Hey, hey, Akaashi. What’s your house like?”

Akaashi scowled across the court at Bokuto, who was bent over tying his shoelace. It was Friday night, and the duo were staying late for spiking practice, as had become the custom over the last six months. Akaashi didn’t mind—though when Bokuto liked to call it consolation for having to study all the time, Akaashi just had to give him a little grief. This wasn’t the first time the spiker had asked him something personal. But Akaashi couldn’t help but find the question strange.

“Why?” he countered, his expression never wavering.

Bokuto stood to his full height, planting his hands on his hips and smirking across the court. “You’re such a serious guy. Your parents are probably doctors or philosophers or philantrophists.”

“Philanthropists,” Akaashi corrected. “And no. My mother is a dean of a hospital, and my father is an accountant.”

“So basically, I was right,” Bokuto teased.

“Why do you want to know?” Akaashi ignored his quip, grabbing another ball from the cart.

“’Cause I wanna see where you live!” Bokuto cheered. “You’ve been to my house. There’s nothin’ all that special about it. I bet your house has fountains and a butler and—“

“There’s nothing special about my house either,” Akaashi cut him off.

“Damn,” Bokuto scoffed, scuffing a toe against the gym floor.

It was true enough. Akaashi had been to Bokuto’s house a few times to help him study when the library was closed. Though he preferred to stay as far away from that place as possible. Bokuto’s parents were the most passive aggressive people he’d ever met. They were demeaning toward their son, essentially calling him stupid without outright saying so. If they thought Bokuto didn’t catch on, they were dead wrong. He wore that same smile he did when the kids at school called him stupid—fake, too much teeth, never quite reaching his eyes.

If Akaashi were more emotional, he would’ve punched them. But instead, he just smiled and told them Bokuto was a genius. They’d laughed. But Akaashi helped Bokuto study twice as hard, and when he brought home that first perfect score, it had shut his parents right up.

But Bokuto was right. They hadn’t ever been over to Akaashi’s house. Akaashi tried to tell himself it was just because it hadn’t been convenient. But really, there had been plenty of opportunities. Akaashi just didn’t like letting people see that part of his life.

Though most people weren’t as persistent as Bokuto. Most people didn’t stick around long enough to see past his sarcasm and steely exterior. But Bokuto had.

Bokuto was different from most people.

Which is why, with a heavy sigh, Akaashi found himself asking, “You’re not allergic to cats, are you?”

“No, why?” Bokuto wondered.

“Because I have a cat,” Akaashi replied. “It would be unwise to invite you over if you were allergic.”

It took Bokuto a second to process Akaashi’s words. But the moment he did, his face lit up with that smile that made Akaashi’s stomach tighten. He bounded across the court, and suddenly his arms were around Akaashi, suffocating the younger boy in a tight hug.

“This is awesome!” Bokuto exclaimed. “I’m so excited! Should I bring something? Should we make something? Dinner? Should we buy dinner? When can I come? Can it be tonight? We don’t have practice until late tomorrow! And my parents are out of town for the weekend, so they won’t care! How about it?”

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said, his voice pinched.

“Yeah?”

“If you keep squeezing, we’ll be going to the hospital instead of my house.”

“Oh!” Bokuto cried, loosening his hold on Akaashi. “Sorry! My bad!”

“It’s fine,” Akaashi replied, massaging his ribs. “My parents generally aren’t home until quite late, so tonight is fine. We can make dinner, or we can order delivery. But we should also study.”

Akaashi could almost see the ends of Bokuto’s hair droop at the suggestion. “Ugh,” he groaned. “Fine, but a few more tosses.”

“We’ve been at this for two hours,” Akaashi noted, though he was already in position to send the ball to Bokuto for a receive.

“It’s my consolation prize! For you working me to the bone!” Bokuto cried.

“I seem to be getting the short end of the stick when it comes to this arrangement,” Akaashi countered, the quirk of a smile on his lips.

“Come ooooooon, one more!” Bokuto shouted.

Akaashi had already tossed the ball up before the shout finished echoing through the gym.

* * *

“AKAASHI! THIS IS AMAZING!”

“Bokuto-san, I appreciate your enthusiasm, but you’ve said that about every room in the house. Even the guest bathroom.”

“Well yeah, ‘cause there were those tiny little soaps that looked like seashells! How cool is that?!”

Akaashi just shook his head, leading Bokuto through the first floor of his house. Bokuto looked around with a mystified expression, eyes wide and mouth hung slack. He looked like he’d never seen the interior of a house before. Really, Akaashi’s house was no more impressive than his own. Maybe an extra bedroom, the kitchen was a little bigger, and Bokuto’s didn’t have a second floor… Okay, maybe Akaashi’s was a little different.

Akaashi was torn from his reverie by a sudden sharp gasp from his right that nearly made him jump out of his skin. He glanced over to see Bokuto, hands pressed over his mouth and a misty expression on his face. He was staring hard at something just ahead of him.

Ah, the cat.

“Bokuto-san, this is Miki,” Akaashi said.

The cat was big and black with white paws and huge yellow eyes. Her pink nose didn’t seem to match her face, and she wore a little pink collar to match. She was watching them with a bored expression, cleaning one of her paws disinterestedly.

“She’s amazing,” Bokuto cooed, the words muffled behind his hands.

“She’s a little bit skittish until she gets to know you,” Akaashi explained. “I found her one day on my walk home. She was a stray.”

“And your parents let you bring her home?” Bokuto marveled.

“I never asked,” Akaashi shrugged. “But they never said anything.”

“Really?”

Akaashi nodded, drawing up to the cat and crouching down in front of her. He held out a hand, and she pressed her face into it. She was purring almost immediately.

“She’s so pretty,” Bokuto whispered.

“You don’t have to whisper, she’s not _that_ skittish,” Akaashi said.

“Oh,” Bokuto whispered anyway.

The older boy crouched down next to Akaashi. For a moment, he just watched her rubbing her face against Akaashi’s fingers. He was wearing that same mystified expression. Then, oh so slowly, he reached tentative fingers toward her. She regarded him with bored eyes. Akaashi was surprised she was letting him get this close. And then, to his great astonishment, she pressed her face into his waiting hand.

“Ohhhhhhh!” Bokuto squawked.

“That’s… Amazing,” Akaashi murmured.

“She’s so pretty!” Bokuto exclaimed. Even his volume didn’t seem to be scaring her away. In fact, she was pressing further into his hand. “I can’t believe she was a stray! Who wouldn’t want her?”

“I think people overlooked her because she has that sort of menacing face,” Akaashi said, reaching out to scratch behind her ears. “Most people just walked right past her.”

“Well that’s not fair,” Bokuto pointed out. “Just ‘cause she _looks_ mean doesn’t mean she _is_ mean…” Bokuto looked like he had a revelation as he glanced back at Akaashi. “You know, she’s kinda like you!”

Akaashi rose a single brow. “That sounds a bit like an insult,” he said.

“No!” Bokuto exclaimed. “Just ‘cause your face is all serious too, so most people might think you’re no fun. But you’re a pretty cool guy!”

“Well, thank you.”

“I mean it! You’re awesome!”

Akaashi had to turn away from Bokuto’s expectant stare. Why was his face heating up? Bokuto wasn’t withholding with his compliments. But this was different. This wasn’t about volleyball, or helping him study. This was just about him. What was going on?

“Do you want something to eat?” Akaashi asked, rising up to his full height.

“Yeah! I’m starving!”

“I’ll make us something.”

Akaashi retreated to the safety of the kitchen, away from Bokuto’s beaming smile and shower of compliments. It just felt like too much. And it was irritating not to understand why.

However, he wasn’t given reprieve for long. Halfway through chopping vegetables, Bokuto sauntered into the kitchen, the enormous black cat snuggled contentedly in his arms. “Look, Akaashi!” he exclaimed. “She jumped up here by herself! I think she really likes me!”

“I think you’re right,” Akaashi agreed. “She’s taken quite a liking to you.”

“She’s got good taste, huh?” Bokuto laughed.

“You know what they say about animals,” Akaashi agreed.

“What do they say?” the older boy asked, leaning forward expectantly.

“That animals can tell if you’re a genuinely good person,” Akaashi replied. “They can sense if you’re trustworthy. It’s all superstition, of course, but—“

“No way!” Bokuto cut him off. “It’s gotta be true! ‘Cause I’m the best!”

“Whatever you say,” Akaashi chuckled.

Bokuto was quiet for a while as he leaned against the doorway. Miki purred happily in his arms. It almost looked like she was falling asleep. Akaashi finished chopping the vegetables and threw them into the sauté pan. It was quiet, as his house usually was. But this was still nice.

“Hey, Akaashi,” Bokuto said suddenly. “Is it like this all the time?”

“I’ll need you to be a little more specific,” Akaashi replied.

“Is it just you here? All by yourself? I know you said your parents usually don’t get home until late. So is it always like this?”

“I suppose so,” Akaashi mused. “Unless I’m practicing or studying with you.”

“Do you ever get lonely?” Bokuto asked.

Akaashi opened his mouth to say _No, of course not. This is how it’s always been._ But the words stuck in his throat. Why? Why couldn’t he just say it?

“It’s okay if you do,” Bokuto murmured, absentmindedly scratching Miki behind the ears. “It’s so quiet, anyone would get lonely. I have my parents at home, and I still feel lonely sometimes… Well, a lot of the time.”

“There’s probably a very good reason for that,” Akaashi noted.

“Yeah,” Bokuto agreed. “But… You know… You don’t have to be so lonely. I can help.”

“And how would you do that?” Akaashi asked.

“Well, I’ll just come by every day!” Bokuto exclaimed. “I’ll keep you and Miki company! And we’ll do our studying here instead of the library.”

Akaashi froze, his fingers curling around the wooden spoon. “You know you don’t owe me anything,” Akaashi murmured quietly.

“Well, I know that,” Bokuto laughed, like what Akaashi had just said was funny rather than mildly insulting. “I’m your friend, right? Honestly, you’re my _best_ friend. And I sure don’t wanna see my best friend be lonely.”

 _Best friend_. No one in his life had ever called Akaashi their best friend before. Truthfully, he’d never even had friends that were based on anything but geography. He felt his chest tighten again, the same way it did when Bokuto smiled.

“I suppose I won’t stop you,” Akaashi murmured.

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes. That would be fine.”

Akaashi heard the sudden thump of four paws landing on the floor, then the thunder of footsteps. He didn’t even have time to look up before he was swallowed in another hug that took the wind out of him. His feet actually left the ground.

“B-Bokuto-san,” Akaashi gasped.

“Sorry, but… I’m just really happy!” Bokuto exclaimed.

His voice was too loud, too close to Akaashi’s ear. His grip threated to break a few of Akaashi’s ribs. But the younger boy was finding it a little hard to care.

“Are you happy because you’ll get to see Miki everyday?” Akaashi teased as Bokuto returned him to the floor.

“Ah, you caught me!” Bokuto raised his hands in mock surrender.

“Then Miki can catch your dinner too,” Akaashi said, returning to the pan of vegetables.

“Nooooooo!”


	3. Bokuto Koutarou is Getting His Chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bokuto finally gets his shot on the court. And there's a confession. Sort of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BokuAka Week Prompt: "Confession"

“This gym is HUGE!”

Bokuto was in absolute awe of the enormous gymnasium, spinning in circles as he tried to scope out every inch. Akaashi drew up next to him with a sigh.

“Isn’t this where they hold the tournaments every year? You’ve played here before,” Akaashi noted.

“Yeah, and we played here in junior high too. But I always forget how big it is,” Bokuto replied.

Akaashi glanced over to appraise the older boy a little closer. He’d been doing that a lot more often lately—watching Bokuto, sizing him up. There were lists in his bag of Bokuto’s strengths and weaknesses, growing in number every day. The two of them had grown stronger as a duo as a result. Bokuto’s depressive episodes happened far less frequently, and they’d even started working on his straights to use for matches. They weren’t perfect yet, but they were getting somewhere.

Though that didn’t explain why Akaashi’s eyes lingered a little longer on Bokuto’s face, on the way he squinted and scrunched his nose up trying to figure out derivatives, the way his tongue poked out when he went for a spike. He spent an embarrassingly long amount of time trying to figure out the exact shade of Bokuto’s intriguing eyes—frustrated with himself every time he was wrong.

But that was all normal. He just had to observe Bokuto, to make them a better team.

“We’d better start warming up,” Akaashi said.

“Yeah… Right…”

Okay. Now it sounded like there was something wrong. Bokuto’s misty expression was gone, replaced by pursed lips and furrowed brows.

“What’s wrong?” Akaashi asked.

“D’you think maybe I’ll get to play today?” Bokuto asked, staring straight ahead.

“There’s always a chance,” Akaashi conceded.

“That’s what you say every time.”

“Because there _is_ always a chance,” Akaashi stressed. “Anything could happen.”

“I guess,” Bokuto mumbled.

Bokuto stared across the gym at the third-years. They were talking, laughing, probably trying to egg on the other team. Bokuto’s scowl only grew more prominent as he watched them. Akaashi didn’t like when Bokuto made that face. He nudged the older boy with his elbow, retrieving his attention.

“Let’s warm up,” Akaashi said. “I’ll throw you some tosses.”

That cheered Bokuto up. It always did.

After warm-ups and greetings, the regulars took their positions on the court. The Fukurodani team was made up entirely of third-years, save for Komi—the team’s only libero. He looked nervous and out of place among the glaring third-years. He always did.

But Bokuto was always the antsiest. He stood between Akaashi and Konoha in the player’s box, hands fidgeting in front of him. They were itching to have a volleyball between them. The first time the ace spiked the ball over the net, Bokuto’s hand actually went airborne. Akaashi had to push it back down to his side. The next time his hand went up, he hit Konoha in the head.

“Come on, man,” Konoha grumbled, shoving his hand away. “I know you’re pumped, but chill out a little bit.”

“I wanna play,” Bokuto mumbled.

“We know,” Konoha and Sarukui said in unison.

This was how every match this year had gone. The third-years were good. They’d managed to make it to nationals last year, after all. But they were also arrogant—especially the ace. They didn’t like to share the limelight, not even with each other, and _especially_ not with the younger students. None of the second years except for Komi had even stepped onto the court once this year.

Still, they won their first set easily enough. But the second didn’t go as well. Nohebi had managed to tie it at 22-22, and the vice-captain’s goading was getting to them. The ace was particularly agitated. That telltale tick of his jaw spoke for itself.

It was Fukurodani’s serve, and the captain sent the ball careening to the other side. The receive went up, and then the toss. Two blockers were on the grinning vice-captain as he spiked, and the one-touch sent the ball up once more. Unfortunately, it went too far up and was heading out of bounds. But the ace was quick on his feet, launching across the court for the ball. He leapt forward, hand outstretched. He made contact with the ball, and it went up once more, hitting the net and bouncing over the other side, landing with a dull thud.

The roar of the crowd drowned out most of the sounds on the court. But all of Fukurodani heard the ace’s arm break as he hit the ground with a sickening crunch.

He didn’t scream. He didn’t cry. But he was shaking violently, his legs barely supporting his weight as two third-years got him to his feet. They struggled over to the coach, who immediately sent him off to the nurse’s station with the manager and the assistant coach. The rest of the team watched in silent horror.

“Akaashi,” Bokuto said suddenly, his voice a low whisper as he jolted Akaashi back to reality.

“What?” Akaashi asked.

“ _Anything could happen_ ,” Bokuto murmured. Akaashi recognized them as his own words from earlier. “You said it, right? _There’s always a chance_.”

“I didn’t mean—“

“BOKUTO!” the coach’s loud shout echoed through the eerily quiet gym.

Bokuto’s golden eyes were wide as he turned them on Akaashi. “Oh my god,” he muttered. “Akaashi… Can you see into the future? It’s like you knew…”

“Bokuto-san, please, they’re waiting for you,” Akaashi urged with a gentle shove.

Bokuto jogged up to the coach, who was talking animatedly to him. It was almost painfully obvious that Bokuto wasn’t listening. The coach had to snap his fingers in Bokuto’s face four times to get his attention. Bokuto’s entire body was quaking with unbridled excitement. After a heavy sigh and a wave of the coach’s hand, Bokuto joined the rest of the team on the court.

The third-years regarded him warily. While none of them had a blanket distaste for Bokuto like the ace did, they had also rarely worked with him individually. They’d essentially written him off as unreliable. And now, here he was, ready and waiting to prove himself.

It made sense that they were terrified.

It was Fukurodani’s serve once more, and Bokuto practically jumped a foot off the ground at the captain’s serve. But he wasn’t nervous. He was locked in on the ball as it went over the net. And when it came back, he was ready for the block. The one-touch went up, this time to a better position, and Komi received it easily. There were no blockers on Bokuto. All three of them were on the third-year getting ready to jump. None of them were prepared for the ball to go to Bokuto.

And no one was prepared for when it flew about three feet above his head, landing out of bounds before he was back on the ground.

The score was tied again, and the setter was obviously frustrated—whether with himself or Bokuto, Akaashi couldn’t tell. He was mumbling something. Akaashi was doing his best to read his lips. Something about _aces and their attitudes_ …

“Hey Akaashi,” Konoha said suddenly, nudging his shoulder.

“Hm?” Akaashi hummed, not looking away from the mumbling setter.

“The coach wants you.”

Akaashi snapped his head toward the coach, who was beckoning him over. His legs suddenly felt like jelly. If seemed as though he had forgotten how to walk. Yeah, it _definitely_ seemed like it. But another nudge from Konoha sent him surging forward, and step-by-step, he made it in front of the coach. The older man peered up at Akaashi with a stern expression.

“You’ve been practicing with Bokuto over this past year,” he said. “Now it’s time to prove it.”

Akaashi opened his mouth to say _Yes, sir._ But the words felt like lead. All he could do was nod stiffly as the coach passed him the number to trade with the setter on the court. And oh, he was _not_ happy about the switch. Akaashi could hear his mumbling clearly now.

“—our last year, we should be on the court, we _earned_ these spots…”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have written players off without giving them a chance,” Akaashi murmured as he passed.

He knew the setter was glaring daggers into him. He knew he would be on the third-years hit list. And he knew this was his first match. But the fierce look in Bokuto’s eyes, the grin that spread across his face as Akaashi took that first step onto the court made all that fade away.

“You ready, Akaashi?” Bokuto asked.

“Yes,” Akaashi replied.

Their first point was a fluke, a wild serve from Nohebi that went about four feet out of bounds. That put the score at 24-23. One more point and Fukurodani would win the set and make it to nationals once more. The pressure was mounting.

But Akaashi couldn’t feel any of it. He couldn’t really feel anything. It seemed more like he was levitating, hovering above the match instead of participating in it. It was as though he could see the serve from behind him despite staring straight ahead at the other team. Nohebi receive, set, spike. The ball came down hard and fast, but Komi was quick. He sent it up perfectly. And Akaashi was ready. Bokuto was heading for the jump, along with the third year on his other side. No one was blocking Bokuto. They had written him off too.

And Akaashi would show them what a mistake that was.

The ball hit his fingers, and he tossed it up. It was the perfect speed, the perfect height. And Bokuto was up, his arm reared back. When his palm hit the ball, the resounding smack echoed through the gym, followed by the slam of the ball onto the wooden floor.

The match was over. Fukurodani was headed to nationals for the second year in a row.

The crowd exploded with a series of screams, some boos and hisses thrown in for good measure. Akaashi could hear the second-years shouting behind him, their pounding footsteps thundering onto the court. But before he could even turn to face them, he found himself lifted off the ground, strong arms around his middle. A mess of gray and black hair greeted him.

“Bokuto-san!”

“Akaashi, holy crap, that was amazing!” Bokuto shouted over the tumultuous roar. “You’re the best!”

“You were the one who got the point,” Akaashi pointed out.

“Thanks to your freaking amazing toss!” Bokuto countered gleefully. “You’re the best! _We’re_ the best! We’re the best team! Holy crap, Akaashi, I love you!”

The other second years surrounded them, forcing Bokuto to return Akaashi to the floor. And thank god for it, because Akaashi’s face had turned a horrifying shade of red. If anyone else noticed, they probably just assumed it was from the thrill of winning.

But when Bokuto’s arm hooked around his shoulders once more, when he insisted on marching around after the match proclaiming himself and Akaashi as the new power duo, when Bokuto fell asleep drooling on Akaashi’s shoulder during the bus ride home… All Akaashi could hear in his head were those three words. Over and over again. A constant loop of mingled confusion and exhilaration.

Three words that Akaashi Keiji would have a hard time forgetting.

_I love you._


	4. Bokuto Koutarou is Bad With Directions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's September training camp, and Akaashi has a surprise planned. But Bokuto spoils it. Though that's not exactly a bad thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BokuAka Week Prompt: "Training Camp"

Akaashi hunched his shoulders against the biting wind. September nights were chilly in Tokyo, and he hadn’t exactly brought along his heaviest jacket to training camp. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, trying to thaw his frigid fingers. The bag around his wrist knocked gently against his shin with every step.

The sounds of the woods used to be soothing to him—the whistle of wind blowing through the trees, the cicadas and crickets singing their songs, the crunch of leaves beneath his feet as he walked. But now, it all felt too quiet.

His life was a constant buzz of sound now. Sometimes it was the squeak of shoes and the thud of a ball on a court. Sometimes it was the hum of his television and the purr of Miki as she perched on his chest.

But mostly, it was Bokuto. Bokuto’s mild chatter about volleyball, complaining about homework, gushing about food and movies and even Akaashi. Bokuto drumming his hands against his thighs in a steady yet elaborate rhythm. Bokuto snoring loudly at training camps or when he slept over at Akaashi’s house—he only snored when he was exhausted.

Compared to Bokuto, the rest of the world felt so quiet now.

Akaashi’s steps slowed, coming to a tentative stop. He was sure he’d heard something. Was it the wind? No, too low. Maybe an animal? If it was, it sounded wounded. He listened hard, waiting to hear it again.

And there it was, a low moan in the distance. But this time, Akaashi thought it sounded like a word, though he couldn’t make out what. Slowly, he headed off the path into the thicket of trees, walking toward the source of the noise. Maybe that was a terrible decision, considering he was a 16-year old, alone in the woods during the dead of night. But then he heard it again. And this time, he sighed.

_“Akaaaaaaashiiiiiiiiiii…”_

Akaashi continued on until he reached a small clearing. And sitting directly at the center of it was Bokuto.

He looked beside himself, his face buried in his hands as he released another long sob of Akaashi’s name. There was a cut up his shin, a few beads of blood trickling from it. His hair was down, a sight people rarely got to see unless you caught him between the bath and going to bed. God, he was just wearing shorts. Didn’t he realize how cold it was?

“Akaaaaaaaashiiiiiiii,” he wailed again.

“Yes, Bokuto-san?” Akaashi asked.

Bokuto gasped, dropping his hands from his face and staring at Akaashi with wide, golden eyes. He scrabbled to his feet and sprinted across the clearing, nearly bowling Akaashi over in his haste. His hands closed around the younger boys arms and gave a gentle shake.

“Where were you?!” Bokuto cried. He looked panicked.

“I had an errand to run,” Akaashi replied.

“AN ERRAND?!” Bokuto shrieked. “Akaashi, it’s almost midnight!”

“I’m aware.”

“Well… It’s… Akaashi!” Bokuto spluttered, his head shaking so fast it was a wonder he didn’t get whiplash.

“What are you doing out here, Bokuto-san?” Akaashi asked calmly.

“You scared me! When I woke up to go to the bathroom, you were gone! And you weren’t in the bathroom when I went to pee. Then I thought maybe you’d be in the kitchen, since you’re always hungry, but you weren’t there either! So I came out here to look for you!”

“Bokuto-san…” Akaashi chided weakly. He couldn’t exactly tell the older boy how irrationally happy it made him to know Bokuto was worried.

Bokuto let go of Akaashi’s arms, instead working his fingers together, fidgeting nervously. “Then… Um…” he mumbled. “Then I kind of got lost.”

“You’re not exactly known for your sense of direction,” Akaashi teased.

“I had to find you!”

“And you cut yourself,” Akaashi said, gesturing to his leg.

Bokuto glanced down, his eyes narrowing. “Huh… I guess I did,” he mumbled.

“You didn’t notice?”

“I was too worried about you, Akaashi!” Bokuto exclaimed, eyes returning to Akaashi’s face. “The coach is gonna be so mad when he sees us missing!”

“He knows I went out, I asked him this afternoon,” Akaashi noted.

Bokuto’s mouth fell open in surprise. He appraised Akaashi for a moment. And then he was gone, turning away and crossing the clearing, stopping just before he reached the trees. His arms folded over his chest. Akaashi heard a sharp exhale from his nostrils.

“What’s wrong?” Akaashi asked.

“Oh, nothin’. I’m fine,” Bokuto replied, his voice pinched. “Don’t tell your best friend you’re disappearing in the middle of the night. It’s fine.”

Akaashi shook his head. Slowly, he crossed the clearing and drew up to Bokuto’s side. The older boy looked pointedly away.

“Fine,” Akaashi hummed. “Then don’t ask me where I was.”

Akaashi didn’t miss the way Bokuto’s eyes flicked toward him for the briefest moment, didn’t miss the quirk of his mouth as it itched to ask. But he held back.

“And don’t ask me what I was doing,” Akaashi continued.

Now Bokuto’s staring was obvious, his head turning to get a better look at Akaashi. He never could resist Akaashi’s gentle teasing.

“And don’t even bother asking me what’s in the bag,” Akaashi added, emphasizing the command with a flick of his wrist that rustled the bag.

All pretenses of anger were gone. Bokuto turned to Akaashi with burning curiosity in his eyes. He reached for the bag, but Akaashi pulled it back.

“What is it?” Bokuto asked.

“It’s a surprise,” Akaashi said, pulling the bag behind his back.

 _Surprise_ seemed to spark a new fire in Bokuto. Akaashi should have been more prepared for Bokuto’s sudden lurch forward. And yet, when the older boy, threw his arms around Akaashi and began grappling for the bag, Akaashi gave a shout of surprise.

“Bokuto-san, stop!” Akaashi tried to shove him away with his free hand. “It’s really a surprise!”

“You brought this on yourself, Akaashi!” Bokuto exclaimed.

And now there were fingers digging into the small of Akaashi’s back, somehow both firm and feather-light all at once. Akaashi had to suppress a scream. Bokuto knew from past experience that Akaashi was ticklish, and he only used it during dire straits—once Akaashi had accidentally elbowed him in the face when he tried. But now it was working to the older boy’s advantage, and Akaashi was forced to let go of the bag in order to push away Bokuto’s hand.

“Aha!” Bokuto cheered, pulling away with the bag in hand.

“Bokuto-san…”

“If it was _really_ a surprise, you wouldn’t have said anything, right?” Bokuto noted with a devilish smirk.

Unfortunately, Bokuto was right. Though Akaashi had planned to wait until tomorrow, that was only because he was sure Bokuto would be asleep. He was almost grateful this was happening now. Fewer prying eyes, fewer third-years to make fun of him later.

“Good to see your persistence doesn’t end on the volleyball court,” Akaashi huffed.

“Can I really look in here?” Bokuto asked.

“I suppose.”

That grin was back as Bokuto rooted around in the bag. The plastic crinkled and he pulled out a small, white box. Akaashi couldn’t help but glance away, feeling suddenly embarrassed. He heard the seal tear, the slide of the cardboard as Bokuto opened the box.

“It’s for you,” Akaashi mumbled. “For your birthday.”

The silence that greeted Akaashi felt ominous. There wasn’t even a hint of movement ahead of him. Reluctant as he was, he glanced toward Bokuto. The older boy was staring at the box, eyes wide and locked in on the cake that lay inside.

“I know you said once that you liked the vanilla cake from the bakery by my house, when we had it for my birthday last year. And I know that it’s just from the convenience store, so it’s probably not the same. But it still looked good,” Akaashi was rambling now. But Bokuto still wasn’t speaking, still wasn’t looking away from the cake. “I would’ve gotten you one last year, but you neglected to tell me it was your birthday until months after the fact. Since we’re friends… I thought… Bokuto-san, Please say something.”

“You got me a cake,” Bokuto mumbled.

“I did,” Akaashi replied tentatively.

“ _You_ … You got me a cake,” Bokuto repeated.

“Did I break you?” Akaashi asked.

Bokuto looked up slowly. His mouth was open wide enough to catch flies.

“You got me a cake…”

“I got you a cake,” Akaashi nodded.

“Sorry… I just…” Bokuto looked down at the cake, then back up. “I don’t remember the last time anyone got me a cake for my birthday,” he murmured.

“Really?” Akaashi asked.

“My grandma used to make them for me, but she died a few years ago,” Bokuto said. “And… You met my parents. They’re not really cake people.”

Akaashi knew full well what kind of people Bokuto’s parents were. He fought the urge to make a sarcastic comment. It wasn’t exactly the most opportune moment.

“I didn’t get any candles.”

Apparently he substituted awkward for sarcastic. Of all the things he could’ve said…

But Bokuto didn’t seem to care. There was a smile quirking at his lips, different from the one that usually made Akaashi chest tighten. This one was softer, gentler, tender even. There were no teeth, no crinkling at the corners of his eyes. He looked so young.

This smile made Akaashi’s chest feel tight too.

“Can I have some now?” Bokuto asked suddenly.

“I don’t have plates,” Akaashi replied.

“You got forks though,” Bokuto peered into the bag. “That’s good enough.”

“You don’t plan on sharing?” Akaashi teased.

“Well I was gonna share with _you_ ,” Bokuto laughed.

“Oh.”

“Come on,” Bokuto urged.

Bokuto dropped to the ground with a thump, setting down the box in front of him. He dug around in the bag and produced two forks. When he held one up to Akaashi, the younger boy relented.

“Isn’t it too cold to stay out here eating an entire cake?” Akaashi asked, sitting down next to the older boy.

“Wait, are you cold?” Bokuto asked.

“A bit,” Akaashi replied, an inopportune shiver rippling through him.

“Aw, c’mon, Akaashi. I’ll keep ya warm.”

Bokuto was quick, and before Akaashi could ask him what he meant or tell him he was fine, the older boy shuffled across the ground, closing the distance between them. His shoulder bumped against Akaashi’s as he tilted toward the younger boy. Akaashi could feel his body heat almost immediately.

Or maybe that was the full-body blush he could feel spreading from his ears to his toes.

“You getting warmer?” Bokuto asked.

“Yes,” Akaashi’s voice cracked around the word, but Bokuto was too preoccupied spearing into his cake to notice. “Is it good?”

“Foo gwood,” Bokuto mumbled around a mouthful of cake.

Akaashi took a bite for himself. It was cloyingly sweet, almost too much for him. And yet he speared another bite, and another, and another.

“D’you like it?” Bokuto asked.

“I do,” Akaashi replied tersely. “It’s good.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m still cold,” Akaashi murmured.

He wasn’t cold. Actually he felt like he was burning up. But as Bokuto scooted closer, practically hovering over him now, Akaashi couldn’t help but lean in too. Bokuto was so firm. So warm.  And as Akaashi took another bite of cake, he thought that this would definitely be worth the exhaustion and stomachache in the morning.


	5. Bokuto Koutarou is a Good Captain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one is prepared for who actually has a meltdown after Fukurodani's loss. And there's only one person who can help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BokuAka Week Prompt: "Last Match"

It had been a close match, deuce after deuce, well into the 40-point range during the last set. Bokuto, Washio, and Onaga had gone up for the block, but the spiker on the other side managed to find a small hole. The ball had glanced off of Onaga’s hand at an angle. It hit the ground with a heavy thud, sailing right past Akaashi’s outstretched fingers.

And with that, the match was over.

Fukurodani had lost.

But it wasn’t the loss that brought the unsettling silence upon the team. There had been a few tears, a few shouts of frustration. It was only natural. They shook hands with the other team, thanked the spectators who came out to watch, and cleared off the court without incident.

Everyone was eyeing Bokuto warily. They were sure their captain would take this loss the hardest. He was already prone to bouts of self-depreciation, and though the losing block hadn’t been off of his own hand, he still tended to blame himself for a loss. But so far, he seemed to be taking it well. He’d given himself a moment to be frustrated, and then he was fine. Better than fine, really. He was giving out directions, encouragements, even laughing a bit.

No one noticed the tightly wound coil ready to spring just a few feet away.

And spring it did.

They weren’t sure what brought it on. A few of the third years were murmuring to each other about still having practice for a few more weeks. Bokuto was consoling Onaga with a smile and a pat on the back.

And then, suddenly, the cart of balls Akaashi had been pushing went flying across the hallway, slamming into the wall and clattering onto its side. The balls scattered in every direction.

At first, they thought maybe it was an accident. Maybe Akaashi had just tripped. But when Sarukui approached him asking if he was alright, Akaashi snapped. He kicked at the volleyballs, sending them careening up and down the hallway. He tore down a poster on the wall. He pulled at his hair, shaking with unsuppressed rage. Bokuto was the only one who could stop him, and only because he picked up the younger boy and carried him out of the gymnasium. Akaashi had slackened immediately, the fight leaving him in a heavy breath.

Akaashi could hear the rest of the team whispering about him as Bokuto dragged him away. And of course, he couldn’t blame him. For one so normally even-keeled, it was probably a sight to see Akaashi lose his cool. No, he hadn’t just lost his cool. He’d practically lost his mind. But all he could focus on were the strong arms carrying him toward the bus and the low, rumbling voice in his ear, mumbling, “I gotcha, Akaashi. I gotcha.”

The bus ride back to the school was almost eerily silent. Usually after a hard loss, there was still something—the sound of gnashing teeth or snores or the hushed whisper of conversation. But today, there was nothing. It was a tense silence, heavy with unasked questions and anxious glances. No one wanted to be the first one to speak. Akaashi couldn’t look anywhere but out the window. Not when he heard Konoha begin to whisper behind him. Not when the bus finally rumbled to a halt in front of Fukurodani’s gym. And not even when Bokuto’s fingers curled around his shoulder.

“Akaashi, we gotta go in,” Bokuto murmured gently.

“I can’t,” Akaashi replied, his voice scratchy from disuse.

“We gotta,” Bokuto repeated.

Akaashi wasn’t sure if his legs would work. Maybe he’d be stuck on this bus forever. Maybe he wouldn’t have to face the reality that waited just inside those double doors. But when Boktuo grabbed his hand and gave a gentle tug, he found himself standing up and following the older boy off the bus and into the gym.

He didn’t let go of Akaashi’s hand.

The rest of the team was waiting inside, and if they were surprised to see the two boys with their hands clasped together, they didn’t show it. Bokuto and Akaashi joined them at the center of the gym. Bokuto took a long, deep breath as he looked around at the team.

“Someone had to lose,” he began. A somber air settled over them immediately, but Bokuto was undaunted. “I’m getting better with the math stuff, and I know that realistically, we had a 50/50 chance of losing today. Itachiyama is a well-oiled machine, and so are we… Someone had to lose… And I want you all to know that I’m so proud of you guys. You were seriously the best team I could’ve asked for. Seriously.”

“C’mon, Bokuto, don’t get cheesy. You’re gonna make us all weepy,” Konoha scoffed.

“Too freakin’ bad!” Bokuto countered. “You guys are all awesome. We killed it today. Not too shabby for a last game, huh?”

Akaashi’s entire body gave a twitch. He ripped his hand from Bokuto’s and practically tore out of the gym. Though he was tempted to just run home, he knew he was too exhausted. So instead, he settled for the clubroom. He was the only one with a key after all.

The clubroom was quiet, as it always was before anyone showed up or after they left. The only sound was the hum of the old radiator in the corner. There was a permanent smell of deodorant, sweat, and just a hint of Bokuto’s hair gel—he’d used enough of it over the past three years, it was probably imbedded in the drywall by now. Slamming the door behind him, Akaashi leaned against the cool metal door.

He wasn’t sure how much time passed, but he could see the sun sinking beneath the horizon in the distance. He didn’t want to face anyone, didn’t want to have to explain himself to them. They probably wouldn’t outright ask. But their questioning looks would be hard to ignore. He didn’t want that.

He couldn’t admit this to anyone.

_“Hey, Akaashi?”_

Akaashi pinched his eyes shut, held his breath, hoped against hope that the voice on the other side of the door would assume he’d gone home. But then there was a thump, a heavy back leaning against the door behind him. Even through the metal, he could hear the sigh.

 _“Akaashi, I know you’re in there,”_ the voice sounded again.

Still, Akaashi didn’t reply. He wasn’t sure if he wanted the boy on the other side to stay or go. But he also knew he might throw something again if provoked.

_“You know, I think I feel like singing…”_

What?

_“And I think I’m gonna sing my FAVORITE song…”_

Oh no.

_“And here… We… Go!”_

Oh god.

_“Heeeeeeeey, HEEE-eeey Akaaaaaa-SHI! I wanna KNOOOOO-o-O-ooo-O-ow, if you’ll toss to me!”_

Akaashi had never regretted showing him that song more. The voice on the other side had just started on the second line when Akaashi couldn’t stand it anymore. He whipped the door open and the heavy body on the other side flailed as it fell backwards onto the floor.

“Oww!”

“What?” Akaashi asked shortly.

Bokuto, who was played out across the floor like an enormous starfish,  peered up at Akaashi with a tiny grin. “Did you like my song?” he asked.

“No.”

“Liar, I know you did,” Bokuto laughed.

He struggled to his feet, stepping into the clubroom and closing the door behind him. Akaashi turned away from the older boy. That easy smile he wore was just too much. Akaashi drew up to the window instead, staring out at the sun as it disappeared behind the trees. He could hear Bokuto’s shuffling footsteps behind him. The older boy was close now. Close enough to touch.

Akaashi wanted him to go away. He wanted him to come closer. He wanted Bokuto’s arms around him, and also as far away from him as possible.

“Everyone else is gone,” Bokuto noted.

“Good,” Akaashi replied.

“They wanted to make sure you were okay, but I told ‘em to head out anyway.”

“Good.”

“I knew you’d be okay.”

“Oh?” Akaashi murmured, prickling immediately. “And how would you know that?”

“’Cause I know everything about you,” Bokuto said, and Akaashi could almost see his casual shrug.

Akaashi didn’t think before he whipped around, squaring off with Bokuto more aggressively than he ever intended to. “Is that so?” he asked, his teeth gnashing.

“Yup,” Bokuto replied.

Akaashi had never felt so close to boiling over in his life. He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. He wanted to take the chance of the two-story fall and leap out the window. At least it was grassy.

“You don’t know anything,” Akaashi croaked.

“I know you’re blaming yourself ‘cause we lost,” Bokuto said pointedly. “And I know you think you let everyone down. Probably think you let me down the most. And… I can tell you’re sad that we won’t get to play another game together, but I can’t tell if it’s for you or for me… So that means it’s probably both, right?”

Akaashi opened his mouth, ready with a snappy retort.

All that came out was a broken sob.

Akaashi couldn’t remember the last time he cried. Maybe when his grandmother died. But that was almost five years ago now. And like a dam bursting, he couldn’t stop the tears that burned at the corners of his eyes, couldn’t stop the full body tremor that rocked through him.

There were arms around him now, strong and firm, bringing him to Bokuto’s chest for the second time that day. And this time, Akaashi clung back. His arms wrapped around Bokuto’s middle, fingers clinging to his damn jersey. He buried his face in Bokuto’s neck in a desperate attempt to hide his shaky shuddering.

“Was I right?” Bokuto asked.

“I just… Wanted to… Keep playing with you,” Akaashi hiccupped.

“Well, duh, like I’m ever gonna stop playing with you,” Bokuto said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Akaashi pulled back, attempting a scowl. Though the tears and snot streaming down his face probably diminished that significantly. “You know what I meant,” he murmured.

“Yeah, of course I did,” Bokuto retorted. “And I’m tellin’ you, you’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

“That’s not—“

“You think I won’t be back here all the time next year begging you to toss to me?” Bokuto cut him off. “And I’m going to school like 10 minutes away. You might see more of me than you do now!”

“It won’t be the same,” Akaashi noted.

“Well, things always change, Akaashi,” Bokuto countered. “They gotta. But… I do want you to know how thankful I am for you.”

“Bokuto-san…”

“No, no, let me finish,” Bokuto talked over the younger boy. “Akaashi…” He paused, mouth twisting in thought. “I had that _moment_ last year… The moment I realized I was hooked on volleyball. It was that time we finally got our first combo down. You… _You_ were my moment. And you’re _always_ gonna be my moment, even when we’re not playing on the same team. When I graduate, when you graduate, if we’re at the same school or different ones, even… Even when you… You get married… Or… Find someone… You know, someone you… Well, you know…” Bokuto was struggling harder with these words than any of the others.

“You were my moment too,” Akaashi said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Well yeah, ‘cause I’m the best,” Bokuto grinned.

Akaashi pinched his side, earning a yelp and a laugh.

“And I really do know you better than anyone, you know,” Bokuto added, his arms tightening around Akaashi, propping his chin on the younger boy’s head.

“I know,” Akaashi sighed. “I’m not sure how that happened.”

“Hey! You know me better than anyone too!” Bokuto exclaimed, pulling back and peering down at Akaashi.

“That’s true,” Akaashi conceded.

“You know…” Bokuto hummed.

When he didn’t continue, Akaashi asked,  “What do I know?”

Bokuto looked flustered now, and he pulled away from Akaashi abruptly. “Never mind, it’s nothin’, I’m good,” he said hurriedly. “So, um, you gonna treat me to ramen? You did when we lost at nationals last year.”

“Because you cried,” Akaashi added.

“Hey!” Bokuto squawked. “It was an emotional loss!”

“If history dictates anything, you should probably be buying _me_ ramen,” Akaashi noted.

“That’s true! _You’re_ the one who cried today,” Bokuto teased. “And you’re in luck, I got some graduation money from my grandpa already!”

Akaashi couldn’t object, especially not when Bokuto linked arms with him and led him out of the clubroom. He spared a sidelong glance in the older boy’s direction, unable to contain the small smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. He glanced away just in time to miss the anxious look Bokuto spared him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Bokuto parodies is "Hey Baby."


	6. Bokuto Koutarou is a Hopeless Romantic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's graduation day! Assumptions are made. Akaashi can't really complain about them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BokuAka Week Prompt: "Graduation"

Akaashi felt like he was watching the scene playing out before him as if he were in a bubble. Everything was blurry around the edges somehow. The voices sounded distant, muffled, like they were talking behind their hands. He was between two students he barely knew—hadn’t ever bothered getting to know, despite the fact that they were in the same class.

The only thing he heard clearly was the call of Bokuto’s name. The only thing he saw without hazy edges was his best friend crossing the stage and taking his diploma.

The smile that stretched across his face made Akaashi’s chest tighten.

And when Bokuto’s eyes scanned the crowd and locked on Akaashi’s, he could feel his chest ache.

He wanted to be happy. He _should_ be happy. His best friend was graduating from high school today, and he’d managed to do so without even a question of whether or not he would pass. Their two years of hard work, practice questions, drilling and drilling over and over again had all paid off. He was going to college now, a good college where he could play volleyball and show off his new skills as a math prodigy.

Akaashi should be so happy for him.

Then why was he so miserable?

There were some speeches from the third-year class president, the captain of the baseball team, the first-year top student, and two girls who broke down crying in the middle of speaking. Akaashi had also been asked to give a speech too, but he had politely yet firmly declined. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to get through three words without running away.

When the two girls were shunted off the stage, the principal came back and gave a short follow-up speech before declaring the ceremony over. There were shouts of joy, a few wailing sobs, and the swell of conversations throughout the gymnasium.

All around Akaashi, people were getting to their feet to greet the graduates. But Akaashi wasn’t sure if his legs worked. Would they ever work? He might be stuck in this gym forever, doomed to live out basketball practices and pep rallies and graduation ceremonies well into his old age.

In front of him, four girls were huddled together crying and laughing, talking quickly about what they wanted to do tonight to celebrate. Down the aisle, a family was congregating—sibling, parents, grandparents, great-grand parents by the looks of it, all gathering to greet one blushing boy running down the center aisle.

And near the front of the gym was Bokuto, standing in front of his stern-faced parents _and_ his math teacher with a sheepish grin. His math teacher was talking animatedly to his parents, waving her hands wildly as she talked about how much he’d improved since his first year—Akaashi didn’t need to hear her to know what she was saying. The pinched looks on his parents’ faces spoke for themselves. But at least they’d showed up.

Akaashi’s legs were moving on their own, miraculously lifting him up and leading him down the aisle of chairs. But instead of heading toward Bokuto, they were leading Akaashi away from him, out of the gymnasium and down the hallway against the tide of people heading outside. He walked a familiar path, the path he’d taken more times than he could count in the past two years.

When he slipped open the door to the second gym, he was relieved to see it empty. The volleyball net was still set up from this morning’s impromptu practice—at Bokuto’s insistence of course. The cart of volleyballs had been pushed into the corner. Akaashi slid his jacket off and dropped it onto the bench as he dragged the cart toward the court. It was a good opportunity to work on his serves, at least.

The first ball went over easily enough, echoing through the empty gym as it landed on the other side of the court. The second just barely skimmed the net and hit the floor with a flimsier thud. The third didn’t even make it over. And the fourth went so far out of bounds, it almost hit the wall.

Akaashi tried to find something to blame it on—anything other than the pinpricks of tears at the corners of his eyes.

And then the door burst open, making Akaashi nearly jump out of his skin. He turned to see Bokuto, his jacket open and fluttering behind him in the breeze he was creating. He was stepping into his volleyball shoes and practically vaulting to Akaashi’s side in little more than an instant. He looked down at the setter with an expectant grin.

“I thought you’d be here! Did you see? My parents actually came! And sensei was talking about…” he tapered off abruptly. “Hey, are you okay?” he murmured, suddenly serious.

“I’m fine,” Akaashi replied, forcing a smile. “I did see. I’m very proud of you, Bokuto-san.”

Any other time, Akaashi’s words of praise would’ve put Bokuto on cloud nine. But now, his expression didn’t waver. He still looked worried as he peered down at Akaashi.

“Hey, Akaashi,” he said slowly. “D’you think you might wanna throw me some tosses?”

“Shouldn’t you go and enjoy your graduation day with the other third years?” Akaashi asked. “I heard them saying they were going to Sarukui’s for a party.”

“Just a few?” Bokuto retorted. “Just… For a little while?”

Akaashi had never been able to turn Bokuto down. And he definitely wouldn’t be able to start now. “For a little while,” he conceded.

Bokuto normally whooped with joy when Akaashi agreed to toss to him. But today, all he did was spare the younger boy a gentle smile. He put his jacket on the bench next to Akaashi’s, rolling up his sleeves as he returned to the court. Akaashi dragged the cart of balls to his spot, the spot that probably bore the imprint of his shoes at this point.

“Ready?” Bokuto called, crouching low.

“Ready,” Akaashi replied.

It like a well-practiced dance now, Akaashi sending the ball up and Bokuto spiking it effortlessly over the net. Toss after toss sailed to the ground with a heavy smack. The only thing missing was Bokuto’s loud hoot of excitement with every success, the resounding “I’m the best” that normally followed a perfect spike. There had been plenty of perfect spikes today. But no words.

They emptied the cart once, twice, three times, always retrieving the balls and starting over again. Neither were sure how much time had passed, but both had worked up a sweat and were panting heavily.

It felt familiar, just the way they’d always done it. It was almost comforting.

Almost.

At one point, Akaashi looked across the court and realized with a start that in a few short weeks, there would be someone else spiking his tosses across the net. It would be someone new. Someone different.

Someone who wasn’t Bokuto.

The next toss went too high. Even Bokuto’s long arms couldn’t adjust. He hit the ground before the ball did, its feeble bounce echoing through the quiet gym.

Well, quiet, save for Akaashi’s sudden sob.

Bokuto was in front of him in an instant, wrapping his arms around the younger boy and pulling him close. Akaashi couldn’t stop the tears. These weren’t angry tears, like those he shed after their last loss. These were heartbroken, shuddering sobs that seemed to shake his entire body. Trembling fingers clung to Bokuto’s shirtfront, and he was leaving tearstains against Bokuto’s shoulder.

And Bokuto held firm. His arms held Akaashi tight, strong and secure and oh so warm. He pressed his face into Akaashi’s hair, murmuring softly, words Akaashi didn’t understand and didn’t care to understand.

Akaashi wanted to stay here forever.

“I’m sorry,” Akaashi murmured.

“What are you sorry for?” Bokuto asked.

“Your shirt is a mess,” Akaashi sniffed, staring down at the splotch of tears on Bokuto’s clean, white shirt.

“That’s okay,” Bokuto just laughed. “I make a mess on yours all the time. It’s kinda nice, actually, you being the one crying. Twice in one month? I could get used to it.”

Akaashi elbowed Bokuto weakly, but the older boy only laughed. Akaashi couldn’t help the tiny smile that tugged at his lips as he buried his face into Bokuto’s shoulder.

“I’m really gonna miss you, you know,” Bokuto hummed, his hold tightening.

“Oh, don’t say that,” Akaashi groaned.

“I am though,” Bokuto asserted. “I know I’m not going far, and I’ll be back all the time. But I’ll miss seeing you every day. And… So, um… To make up for leaving, I… I got you something.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Akaashi countered, pulling back reluctantly to look up at Bokuto. “You’re going on to college, it’s a good thing. It isn’t something you have to apologize for.”

“It isn’t an apology,” Bokuto mumbled.

He took a step back, and Akaashi noticed for the first time that he looked almost nervous. He stuck a hand into his pocket, digging around for something. His fingers closed around it. He pulled the hand out and opened it to Akaashi.

“A button?” Akaashi asked curiously. He recognized it as the one from the front of their uniform jackets, black and glossy against Bokuto’s palm.

“Yeah, it’s for you,” Bokuto said, pushing his hand a little closer to Akaashi. His other hand kept swiping against his pant leg. “I… I wanted to give you my second button. ‘Cause you’re the most important person to me, so…”

Realization dawned on Akaashi. And he was surprised to hear a laugh bubbling past his lips. Bokuto looked surprised.

“Bokuto-san, that doesn’t really work with our uniforms,” Akaashi noted.

Bokuto blinked in confusion. “What?” he asked. “Why?”

“Students who wear _gakuran_ give away their second button because it’s closest to their heart. Our jackets only have three buttons,” Akaashi pointed out. “You giving me the second button signifies that I’m the one who’s closest to your stomach.”

Bokuto seemed to visibly deflate at that. Akaashi took pity on him, plucking the button from his palm anyway.

“I appreciate the gesture nonetheless,” Akaashi added.

“Damn, I thought that would be really romantic too,” Bokuto groaned, running a hand through his hair.

Akaashi’s entire body stiffened as he stared at the button between his thumb and forefinger. “Romantic?” he repeated.

“That’s what I get for trying to be smooth,” Bokuto chuckled.

“What do you mean by romantic?” Akaashi repeated, more insistently this time.

“Well, I wanted to show my boyfriend how important he is to me,” Bokuto explained. “And all I managed to do was tell him I like when he cooks for me.”

Akaashi’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. “B-boyfriend?” he spluttered.

“What’s wrong?” Bokuto asked, his head tipping in confusion. Then, his eyes grew as wide as Akaashi’s. “Oh no, you’re not breaking up with me, are you? I’m not ready yet. This’ll be the worst day ever!”

“Bokuto-san, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Akaashi admitted. “I… We… What makes you think we’re dating?”

“Well, we hang out all the time. You know me better than anyone. I told you I loved you like _forever_ ago,” Bokuto ticked off on his fingers.

“A week ago, you were talking about me getting married to someone else, and now we’re dating?” Akaashi reasoned.

“Well, yeah, ‘cause I know we probably can’t be together forever,” Bokuto nodded. “So I just wanted to enjoy my time with you for as long as possible, you know? We’ll probably both have to go out and get married to other people one day, but… But I’ll still love you, even when—“

Bokuto didn’t get to finish. Akaashi was already on his toes, fingers closing around Bokuto’s collar and pulling him down to smash their lips together. Bokuto’s eyes widened, then pressed shut. His hands made their way to Akaashi’s cheeks, fingers dipping into his hairline, pressing into his scalp.

Bokuto’s lips were dry and rough. They were everything Akaashi had ever dreamed they’d be.

When they finally pulled back, Bokuto’s face was red, his lips swollen. He looked down at Akaashi with a dazed smile. “Wow, that was awesome,” he murmured.

“I wish you would’ve told me we were dating before,” Akaashi noted. “We could’ve been doing that a long time ago.”

“Can we do it again?” Bokuto grinned.

As Akaashi leaned forward, pressing his lips to Bokuto’s in another kiss, he couldn’t help but wonder how many other people had assumed they were dating too. Then again, maybe he didn’t really care.

If he got to kiss Bokuto like this, be with Bokuto the way he’d always wanted, nothing else really mattered.


	7. Bokuto Koutarou is Akaashi Keiji's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Great minds think alike. This holds true for Bokuto and Akaashi too. Here’s what the future has in store for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bokuaka Week Prompt: "Future"

Akaashi was late. He _detested_ being late, and yet here he was, flying through the doors of the restaurant at 7:20, sweaty and out of breath. He’d sprinted the entire three blocks from the train station and was _still_ late. The maître d’ greeted him with wide eyes and a tentative query about a reservation. Really, Akaashi couldn’t blame man. As windblown as he was, he probably looked like a crazy homeless person right about now.

“Yes, it’s… It’s under Akaashi… For two… I think the rest of my party might be here,” Akaashi panted.

The man behind the podium scanned his list of reservations, and it seemed he found Akaashi’s name on it. Whether he was relieved Akaashi wasn’t actually homeless or apprehensive that he was going to be dining at the restaurant, Akaashi couldn’t say. But regardless, he took Akaashi’s coat and led him back toward the private booth he’d reserved.

The first thing Akaashi saw as they approached the booth was the head of tall, spiky, white-and-gray hair. It was a sight that usually comforted him—the sight he fell asleep to at night, woke up to in the morning, blocked his view of the television and tickled his chin when they sat together on the couch.

But tonight, it was only making him feel nervous enough to throw up.

Bokuto turned his head at the sound of their impending footsteps. When his eyes fell on Akaashi, his face lit up in that blinding smile, the one that always made Akaashi’s chest tighten.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” he murmured as he dropped into his seat.

“That’s okay!” Bokuto exclaimed, his foot tapping rhythmically against Akaashi’s under the table. “How was your day?”

“Ah, it was fine,” Akaashi replied. “Just the usual first day, showing us around the office and getting us settled in.”

“I’m still so proud of you,” Bokuto marveled. “You had like a hundred job offers right after graduation. That’s seriously amazing.”

“It was three,” Akaashi corrected, trying to ignore how warm the back of his neck felt. He’d know Bokuto for so long, and yet his unbridled praise still made Akaashi flush scarlet.

“Three is _still_ amazing,” Bokuto insisted. “That’s more than most people get.”

“Says the man who was asked to join the Japanese national team even before he graduated from college,” Akaashi noted, hiding his face behind a menu. God, his face was turning so red.

“Well yeah, but so did a bunch of guys on the team. And even more got them a few months later. Our team freaking rocks,” Bokuto said with an excited wave of his hand—one Akaashi could see even from behind his menu. “But _you_ , Akaashi Keiji, _you_ got job offers all around Tokyo. Now _that’s_ something to talk about.”

Akaashi was sure there was steam issuing from his ears. “Did you order yet?” he asked, trying to change the subject.

“Just an appetizer. And I got that fancy wine you like,” Bokuto added.

Akaashi peered over the top of the menu at Bokuto. “And by fancy wine, you mean the expensive wine?” he clarified.

“Hey, we can afford it now!” Bokuto cheered. “You’re a big shot accountant, and you’re dating a sports superstar! No more instant ramen and watered down pasta sauce for us! We did it!”

Akaashi couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips. “We did, didn’t we?” he murmured.

He wanted to hold Bokuto’s hand, bring the knuckles to his lips and kiss each one, tell Bokuto just how much he loved him. But when the waiter came by with their wine, he settled for bumping his knee against Bokuto’s beneath the table.

“How about a toast?” Bokuto suggested as he filled Akaashi’s glass almost to the brim. “I think it might be appropriate, yeah?”

“I suppose,” Akaashi conceded.

“To you, and your amazing new job,” Bokuto inclined his glass toward Akaashi. “To graduating at the top of your class. To being so smart and funny and cute and my favorite person and—“

“Five years later, and you still relish embarrassing me in public,” Akaashi cut him off. Now there was no menu to hide the blush that he knew was spreading from his ears across his entire face.

“Well I wouldn’t do it if you didn’t make it so easy,” Bokuto teased. “You’re just so cute when you turn all red. And anyway, I’ve been embarrassing you in public a lot longer than five years.”

“No, that’s true,” Akaashi agreed, taking a drag from his glass. “Just five years since you tricked me into dating you.”

“Why do you always put it like that?” Bokuto wailed, slumping over the table. “It wasn’t a trick!”

“Warming my heart with your second button act, convincing me that we were already dating, acting all coy when I kissed you…”

“I _told_ you, it’s just ‘cause I thought you didn’t like kissing!” Bokuto cried. Thank god they were in a private booth or he would’ve attracted all the eyes in the restaurant. “I was _sure_ we were dating! _Sure_!”

“Mhm,” Akaashi hummed, grinning around his glass.

Bokuto’s face was suddenly drawn into an usually serious expression, all hard lines and furrowed brows. For a moment, Akaashi was worried that he’d upset the older man with his teasing. After a quick glance to make sure no one was around, he reached across the table and settled his hand over Bokuto’s.

And then suddenly, his hand was clasped between both of Bokuto’s palms. An intense pair of golden eyes was staring across the table at him.

“Back then, I also said that we probably couldn’t be together forever,” Bokuto murmured. “I said we’d probably have to go off and get married to other people eventually. And I’d still love you even when we did. You remember that?”

“Of… Of course I do,” Akaashi replied, trying to keep his voice from trembling.

“Well…” Bokuto paused, eyes boring into Akaashi’s. “I don’t wanna do that.”

“Oh?” was all Akaashi could manage.

“I never wanted to do that. But I also knew that I couldn’t keep you from having a future of your own. I figured we would be together until we couldn’t be anymore, and then we’d go our separate ways. We’d be friends, and I’d always love you. But I’d have to let you go. Except…”

“Except?” Akaashi repeated.

“Except I got selfish. There isn’t anyone I wanna marry, or anyone I’ll ever wanna marry more than you,” Bokuto reasoned. “I know it. ‘Cause I love you, and there isn’t anyone else like you in the whole world. I’m so happy when I’m with you, and I know I won’t be this happy with anyone else. I… I don’t know if I could ever see you with anyone else either. And I know that’s selfish, but… I don’t really care.”

This time, Akaashi couldn’t form words, his mouth opening and closing uselessly around them.

“So…” Bokuto let go of Akaashi’s hand and reached into his pocket, pulling from its depths a small brown box. Akaashi raised his own hand to his mouth in an attempt to stifle his gasp. Bokuto opened the box to reveal a simple silver band. “I know it doesn’t mean much in the real world. It’s not like we can get married for real or anything, but… You’re the only one I want. And I want you to know it.”

The fingers against his lips were shaking as Akaashi appraised Bokuto with wide green eyes. The older man’s confidence seemed to falter with every passing second of silence.

“Hey, I mean… I get it. I know it’s kinda sudden… And it’s weird too. ‘Cause we’re both guys. I know that. You don’t have to feel bad saying no or anything. I promise I won’t get upset,” Bokuto rambled.

Akaashi pulled his hand from his mouth and shoved his trembling fingers into his pocket. What he pulled out made Bokuto’s eyes widen.

A small black box. And inside? A thin gold band.

Akaashi swallowed hard. “I was so late because I had to get it sized. I had a very similar speech planned, complete with my selfishness taking center stage. But as always, you beat me to the punch,” he said. “Though I was at least going to wait for dessert.”

“Oh my god!” Bokuto gasped.

He was on his feet, leaning over the table and pulling Akaashi forward into a kiss before the younger man could stop him. His fingers slid around Akaashi’s neck, angling his head back, bringing him in deeper. God, Akaashi could never quite get used to the intensity of Bokuto’s kisses, the way they made him feel like he was falling. He had to cling to Bokuto’s arms to stay upright. When Bokuto pulled away, his breathing was quick and shaky. His mouth was stretched into the widest smile Akaashi had ever seen.

“I really love you, you know,” he sighed.

“I love you, too,” Akaashi muttered, pressing his forehead to the older man’s.

“So… You really wanna be with me forever?” Bokuto asked.

“It seems so,” Akaashi replied. “You’ve tricked me once again.”

“Noooooooo!” Bokuto whined, dropping back onto his seat with an aggravated thump. “I’m serious! If you’re mean, I won’t know if you’re serious!”

“I wouldn’t say mean,” Akaashi teased. “I’ve got to keep you on your toes, after all.”

“Maybe I’ll just embarrass you some more,” Bokuto threatened with a mischievous grin. “Seems I’m pretty good at it.”

“Just give me your hand,” Akaashi ordered with a chuckle.

Bokuto slipped his hand into Akaashi waiting one. Akaashi slid the golden band onto his ring finger. It was a perfect fit. Bokuto plucked the silver ring from its box and slipped it onto Akaashi’s finger as well. Neither seemed to want to let go.

“I love you, Keiji,” Bokuto murmured.

The sound of his name in Bokuto’s mouth still managed to take Akaashi by surprise every time. But today, he wanted to hear it.

“Say it again,” he sighed before he could stop himself.

Bokuto’s smile was back, making Akaashi’s chest tighten, his stomach flutter. “I love you, Keiji,” he hummed.

“I love you too, Koutarou.”


End file.
